24 Jul 2019 41 Comments
in #1linerweds Tags: #1linerweds, #onelinerwednesday, Blog, Blog Post, Blogger, Blogging, growing up, Linda G Hill
Savour each and every moment – they grow up far too soon. Hold their hand as long as they let you, kiss them goodnight, cherish every cuddle – for soon they think they are too old for all that…
Ritu 2019
It was Lil Princess’s Year 6 Leavers Prom last night… and tomorrow is her last day at Primary school.
The end of an era for her, and for me as a parent at our school.
I can’t quite believe how fast time has flown.
For Linda’s #1linerweds challenge.
31 Aug 2017 94 Comments
in Thoughts Opinions & Memories Tags: Blog, Blog Post, Blogger, Blogging, Dreams, growing up, Reality, Teaching, Vocation
A post from my archives!
As a 7 year old, I watched the 16 year old head girl of our school wandering around the infant section of our school. Alice House, it was called. We all asked why the big girl was there. Not in a negative way. She was wonderful, helping us with work, and with kind words, encouraging us to do our best.
Work Experience. Oh! What was that? Well apparently she was interested in becoming a teacher, and so she came to us to really see what it was like, working as a teacher, with little people.
This was the moment it really embedded in my brain that there were jobs in this world. You could choose to be something! That was also the moment I decided, without a doubt, that I wanted to be a teacher to little people too!
And from then on, forget university, my training started! I am blessed with a huge extended family. And boy were there a lot of guinea pigs available to be my test pupils!
It was not uncommon to find me in the middle of a group of children, at any given family function. Most likely, the situation was that the parents went actively looking for me, to foist their children on me. Not that I minded, I loved them, babies and toddlers, little people if all ages. I was in my element!
Fast forward to when I was 15 and sitting my GCSE’s. It was my time to do work experience. And I did it exactly where I had first got the seed of inspiration as to what I wanted my vocation in life to be. Alice House.
This is Alice House. I went up to the attic to find this painting… a treasured memory of my wonderful time there!
It was wonderful to be in that classroom with these little people, and my dream grew. I was, one day, going to be that inspirational person standing in front of those children. I was going to make a difference. I was going to help them cultivate a love of learning, and be someone they remembered fondly. I was going to have wonderful ideas, and teach them wacky things that would help them along on their academic journey…
All through my A-Levels, I volunteered a morning a week there too, and enjoyed every minute. It was so great that my actual nursery teacher was still there, and she loved that she had me back in the classroom with her. I experienced other schools as I completed other work experiences too, and my dream was cemented. I was going to make it a reality.
My UCAS form was filled in, with my course choice – a B/Ed with English & Drama as the specialist subject. This was such an exciting time!
…but it started to fade…
As I proceeded through the 4 year course, it was obvious that the Government had tampered with education to such an extent, that there was now a strict National Curriculum for us to follow. There were standard assessments, and topics that had to be covered in certain ways, and then results to be formulated in various manners… form filling, pen pushing, red tape…
Hang on, where were the children in all this???
I didn’t recall all this form filling, and stress on the teachers I had worked with.
Nearing the end of Year 3 of my degree, I clearly recall a phone conversation I had with my mother. I was sat on the stairs of the house I was living in, and I told her I didn’t think I could carry on with this farce of a course that was masquerading as Teacher Training. “It’s not about the kids anymore mum. It’s all about scores, and piles of paper.” At that stage I had experienced 3 block teaching practices, and been snowed under by all the planning and assessments that were required.
My days were filled with stress of what to teach, and how, so I got those scores required at the end, not about the enjoyment of the child, or whether they had any interest in what they were learning.
Needless to say, I finished my degree. At least I knew I had that behind me. But I had no inclination to find a teaching job. My dream was shattered.
I spent the next nearly 14 years working in retail, in banking, in marketing, getting married, building a home, having a family, and I was pretty happy with all that was happening.
Once in a while Hubby Dearest would ask me whether I would consider school as a career again. But I was still adamant. This was no longer my dream. It was just a fantasy, and the reality that I had been shown was far removed from the ideals I had formed.
It was the needs of my children that actually pushed me back into the education sector.
I was working full time, and my Mother in Law was looking after my children during the day. Lil Man was in full time school, and seemed to be struggling. Lil Princess was still a mere 3 year old tiddler.
Mum was concerned that she couldn’t help her grandson in the way he needed, with regards to school work, and I was home so late that it was hard for me to sit with him for the time he needed, to do things together. So, after a lot of thought, I handed my notice in at the marketing job I had held for 9 years.
It was wonderful having that childhood time back with my kids. I looked for part time jobs but nothing came up.
Then a friend, who is also a parent of one of my son’s class mates, mentioned there was a teaching assistant job going at school. It would be ideal, hours wise, and I would get the holidays with the kids too. No stress, no planning or paperwork, but working with kids again, and not having the pressure of a teacher. Sounds good right?
Well, I went for it, and the job was mine for the taking. (Think about it though, a qualified teacher, at Teaching Assistant money, which school would refuse that??!)
It was a wonderful way to make me realise my dream, though it was a little faded, slightly jaded, was still there, in the back of my mind. And with the weeks, and months of being within the school environment, the dream started to sparkle again, it gained clarity, and my main focus became to get myself back on that horse. I wanted to take the reins, fully Have my own class, plan, assess, educate!
I was in a much better position than I had been during my degree. I was older, with more life experience. I had seen far too many younger Newly Qualified Teachers crack under the stress of teaching, where the work/life balance is so unevenly placed. The expectations on each individual so high, and at times, unrealistic. It was no wonder they didn’t want to carry on.
But I made a huge decision, fully informed, after being in school for 3 years, that I wanted to get back into teaching. My own two children were that much older, and not to say they didn’t need me any more, but they were more mature, and settled, and able to cope with life, knowing mummy might be a bit busy, or stressed during term time
As you all know, I did a course, to update my qualifications, and within the course time, the job I am in now, came up. My head teacher was all for me getting the role, and even though she wanted it to happen too, I had to go through all the official procedures, and interview to get the job.
If you have been reading since September, you’ll know I have had a pretty, ahem, colourful start, with a very ‘interesting’ mix of children in the nursery. My Co-Teacher, who has been teaching Early Years for 13 years, said to me the other week that she felt awful for me, having such a bunch as my first official class.
I’d like to think of it as a Baptism Of Fire! You know, I am exhausted. I have never felt as tired as I do right now I am counting the days, hours, minutes to half term which starts next Friday at 3.45pm, so I get a week off. It has been really tough. I never thought it would be like this, but WOW!
I always knew nursery was not just ‘all play’ like many think it to be. I mean yes, it is play, but constructive play, play with meaning, and a time to hone many skills, embed many behaviours that a child needs in both their academic, and personal life.
Yes, it has been tough, probably the toughest 6 weeks I have gone through in a long time, but it has been rewarding too, honestly. There is a huge corner we need to get these children to turn, but I can, at last, see the bend. There are changes happening, slowly but surely. The children that were causing us the most difficulty are starting to settle.
I’m not entirely sure they are going to be reciting their ABC any time soon, or solving equations, but we may just get them to become decent human beings at least!
Is this what I had dreamed of?
Was this what I wanted to be doing with my life?
Is this teaching?
It’s not quite what I had expected. but yes, knowing I am doing something with these children, making a difference, is exactly what I wanted to be doing. I am teaching, but not the subject matter I thought I would teach. It’s more life skills and behaviour.
Ask me again in July, how I feel about these children, and the challenges we have faced…
But for now, I can definitely say I have grown up to be what I always wanted to be!
27 Jul 2017 73 Comments
in Family, Thoughts Opinions & Memories Tags: Blog, Blog Post, Blogger, Blogging, Family, growing up, Holidays, Kenya, Memories
Mum and Pops were born in Kenya but settled here in the UK in the early 70’s. Quite a lot of our family had also moved out, but there was, and still is a sizeable amount still there, so we would spend 4-5 weeks every other summer out there, keeping our links with our family open.
They were were both born in a small farming village called Kibos, near Kisumu, and Lake Victoria. The farming there was mainly sugar cane. Both families had farms so we would love to go and stay there. This picture below shows my family with my mums grand mother, my great grandmother, God rest her soul, she was with us until she was 104 years old!
With my darling Great grandmother
I always remember a giant Bamboo tree in the garden that we used to play around, and sit under, but I was always slightly scared, as we had been told there were snakes in it too! I never actually saw one though! And my grandfather loved gardening so he had a small fruit yard too, and we would wake to eat the most amazing fresh Papayas for breakfast, picked that morning!
We would spend a lot of time at my Pops family farm too, down the road, and that is a picture of me, my brother and my maternal cousins, on the back of a pick up truck. In those days, no one had any fear, we would all pile into the back and go cruising around! They had dogs, and chickens, and I remember loving their dog Lassie, until she died while having puppies. I thing subconsciously I stopped liking dogs then, not because I had a fear of them, but I developed a fear of attachment… and losing someone… There was so much space to run around, we would make mud pies if it rained, as the rain was warm, and fun!
Around the corner was another household full of kids, Baaji’s house. Baaji, was at 70ish, my oldest cousin! Yes cousin! He had kids and grandkids, and great grand kids, which meant I was given an elevated status, relationship wise from a very young age! We would walk through the sugar cane fields to their house and spend the days playing, and drinking Coke and Fanta from glass bottles, and having such fun! The time would disappear, and it would be dark before we knew it, and the adults would have been despatched to round us up, ready to go to our homes!
Occasionally we would have weddings to go to, and they were such fun affairs there, all out in the open, riding from one farm to another in our pick up trucks, or piled on top of one another in the back of cars. The parties were outdoors, music blaring, food a plenty, being cooked on a chula outside, the men cracking open beers, or something stronger. Singing and dancing, oh such memories!
Opposite Pops farm was a set of hills. At the uppermost point was a huge stone coked Monkey Stone. It was a day trip to get up there, part drive, part climb. I was never old enough to go, when trips were arranged, and when I was old enough, no one wanted to go! Usually folk would pack a picnic and leave early in the morning, have a stop and eat lunch, then make their way up. It was called Monkey Stone because the route was full of baboons! Once you got to the top, it was customary to write your name on the stone, and take pictures, obviously! I was gutted I never got a chance! One day maybe…!
Our mode of transport, at the back of a pick up truck!
My uncles, my mum’s brothers, lived in a town a couple of hours away, in a place called Eldoret. My grandfather, after leaving his brothers in charge at the farm in Kibos, bought a huge wheat plantation in Eldoret, with a beautiful farm house slap bang in the middle of the farm. There, he created the most amazing gardens, rose gardens, and a huge allotment for home use. He grew all manner of fruit and vegetables there. Nanaji (my Granddad) loved dogs, and he had many, as pets, then the more vicious ones as guard dogs. This love of animals was carried forward by my uncles, who kept many dogs, and still do, even when Nanaji passed away. My Nanima, God rest her soul, loved gardens too, and after the loss of her husband, she would tend to the roses and flowers… She loved us and the gardens equally I think! I feel a funny story coming on…
One year when I was around 15, my cousin had a small 50cc motorbike for riding around the farm. She said she would teach me how to ride it, and I was like, yeah ok! So I got on, started welt straight, for all of 5 seconds, veered right and ended up in the flower bed… Nanima rushed out to me, I thought, but no, she pulled me out and started fussing over the bush! Still, she did ask if I was ok, about 15 minutes later! Love her to bits!
Oh, and I can’t forget the matching outfits! Mum had 2 nieces, one my age, and one my brother’s age. Without fail, each time we were due to go, she’d buy clothes for us girls, matching outfits, and we loved looking like matching (but not, if you know what I mean!) triplets… Until we hit the teen years, then it was like “Mum! Stop with the bulk buying now!!!” Obviously my brother got away with being individual… I’m not sure though, he would have suited some if these outfits! 😜
At Lake Baringo with our matching outfits.. oh and my brother!
We would take trips to Lake Baringo, a lake with hippos and crocodiles in it. There as an island in the middle where there was a permanent campsite set up, we stayed there several times in tents, amazed and equally horrified by the size of the centipedes and milipedes that we would find!
They had a swimming pool at the top of the island where we would go and chill. And you could go on a boat ride around the island, and visit the hot springs that were there at the other side. If you felt too sophisticated to camp, there was the Lake Baringo Club you could stay at instead, situated on the banks of the lake, with chalet style rooms, and you could go on day trips to the island, or just relax there at the Club, indulging in good food, drink and a great swimming pool!
One time we stayed there, and I was in a room with my cousin of the same age. We felt very grown up, no adults in our room with us, and we left the dining room ahead of everyone else, so we could go chill, and generally plan mischief without anyone. Unbeknownst to us, our chalet was the only one with a yellow bulb in the light outside, all the others were white. This attracted many critters that we didn’t want near us, and when we got to our room, there were 2 snakes, a couple of rather large lizards, and many flying things, BIG things around our front door! We hared back to the dining room, and grabbed an adult to help us remove these creatures, and to help us get in our room. So this was done, and my uncle let us in locked the door, and left, saying they’d all be back on half an hour. Well, he wasn’t to know, but he let in a HUGE dragonfly, which buzzed at us. He wanted to get out, but we couldn’t do anything, all the windows had mesh on them, and the door was locked! We sat under a mosquito net, on our beds, holding each other, crying and shouting out for anyone to hear, like big sissies! The rest of the family arrived to find us screaming, hoarsely in our rooms, gibbering messes… We didn’t feel too grown up after that!!
A little older on a boat at Lake Turkana, the largest freshwater lake in East Africa, I think!
On one of my last trips there, I was around 16 and we went way up North to Lake Turkana. This is the largest freshwater lake in Kenya, and set in desert like surroundings. It was an experience… And aside from the house we stayed in, there were very few modern amenities… Not fun if you had a dodgy tummy and weren’t home… Get what I mean! That’s me and my cousins enjoying a boat trip on the lake, feeling rather cool! I think we might have been trying to sign 2 Legit 2 Quit!!
My last trip was the December of 1997, a long time ago… My cousin was getting married. It was a bitter sweet trip. 2 weeks of celebrations and sadness at an era nearing its end.
I didn’t know then that I wouldn’t be going back any time soon, that this would be the last time I saw my grandma, my only surviving grandparent… That Pops family farm would get sold, that slowly the same would happen to mums family farm, that things would change so much…
I loved my summers there so much, I wish dearly to be able to take Hubby Dearest and the sprogs there one day. It won’t be the same, but I hope I can one day…..
04 Aug 2016 60 Comments
in Thoughts Opinions & Memories Tags: Blog, Blog Post, Blogger, Blogging, Eat to live or live to eat, growing up, Healthy Eating
All this healthy eating… it’s set my mind thinking…
Do we eat to live, or live to eat?
It stands to reason, that the majority of us eat to live doesn’t it? If we didn’t have nourishment, then we wouldn’t be here.
If we lived to eat, we would all be rolling around, obese, and probably dying way before our time…
This only really came into my mind as I was cooking my dinner for today. Hubby Dearest decided he didn’t really fancy anything overly healthy, but I stood my ground and said I would stick to my plan, and then sort him out with whatever he wanted.
As I sat eating my healthy homemade food (Lamb kebab, quinoa stuffed mushroom and salad) he glanced over at it, with a look that didn’t say “YUM!” but rather “Nah, I don’t think so!”
Was it really that unappetising?
Was I making myself eat something awful, all in the name of living a healthy diet? Was I eating to live?
It doesn’t look that bad, does it?
No. Not today anyway!
There have been times though, in my life, where I have attempted to eat things that were not for my taste-buds, but meant to be good for you, so I tried. You gotta live, right? But it felt like I was making myself suffer, in order to look good.
From various fruit and vegetables, to herbal teas, I forced myself. But I couldn’t do it. That time of my life, I think I really did Live to Eat. I was in my prime. My weight wasn’t an issue, Mummy Tummy was a thing of the future, not yet experienced.
I would eat all sorts of rich foods, takeaways, drink soft drinks, and alcohol, without a care in the world. It was a wonderful time! But I guess all good things come to an end.
My metabolism changed with my age. I had 2 children. My body changed. I could no longer eat like I used to. I was unable to exercise in the same way, and even if I did, it wasn’t working like it did before. And I was definitely Eating to Live. I needed energy to cope with these two boisterous children, a job, and general family life.
But I was eating the wrong stuff.
And coupled with my general lifestyle, it was not good for me. So, I piled on weight, and found myself stuck with a jelly belly, wobbly bum, cellulite, bingo wings, and a double chin. No thigh gap visible here y’all!
But the good thing with getting older is that generally, you get wiser. And with that wisdom, I realised that I can try the ‘good for you’ food, and I can learn to love it too.
Currently, I am experimenting with different healthy recipes, some I have tried before, some new to me, but it is different to my recent diet.
And yes, I am definitely Eating to Live now, Eating to Live a healthy life, for my family, my children, and most importantly, for ME!
And as I become accustomed to some new flavours, some maturer tastes, I think, I may be actually Living to Eat too… because I have started to enjoy this good stuff, almost as much as some of the naughty food too!
I believe that in general, we all go through both phases, Eating to Live, and Living to Eat.
Which phase are you going through right now?
Live to Eat
or
Eat to Live
02 Jun 2015 17 Comments
in Children, Guest Posts, Humour Tags: Blog, Blog Post, Blogger, Blogging, children, growing up, Guest Post, Sex Education
A guest post on A Momma’s View! Thank you Sandra, for asking me! 😊
It was a lovely surprise to get an email from Momma asking me if I’d like to write a guest post for her.
Who am I?
Sorry, how rude of me! My name is Ritu of But I Smile Anyway. I’m also a mum, in the UK, and also I’ve just started work as a Nursery Teacher. I like to write about all sorts, from recollections and reminiscences, to jokes and quotes, stories about my family, my thoughts on various issues, and all about my cat too!
Please have a mosey on over, and have a nose at my posts, and if you like, join my lovely followers!!
I had a think, and came up with something I hope you will enjoy reading!!!!
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